


The Two Sides of A Coin

by larryisnotanillusion



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Childhood Abuse, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Graphic, M/M, PTSD, Sex Addiction, please be careful reading
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 19:55:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7545879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larryisnotanillusion/pseuds/larryisnotanillusion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry was sexually abused by his uncle when he was younger leaving the young man with a crippling fear of "love" and the closeness that is requires. Louis was physically abused by his father all through his youth and is stuck with the paralyzing fear that he will never be loved. The two meet and life has a way of making things hard for the two but something about the lean boys curls and the small boys eyes has the pair fighting for something completely new to them both.<br/>otherwise seen as:<br/>the one where harry is asexual as a result of the abuse he received at the hands of his uncle while louis has become a sex addict as a result of the abuse he suffered by his very own father leaving him to feel unloved and with a need for closeness always on his shoulders. This is the story of what happens when to very different yet startlingly similar worlds collide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Two Sides of A Coin

**Author's Note:**

> Please be careful reading this, i wish no harm to anyone and the story will become graphic at points. Abuse is not a joke and it is not a trend, i hope i do not make it seem as such, I merely wished to show the aftermath of such horrible circumstances when you have love and hope on your side. Please feel free to leave comments and the like! Again please do read with caution.

Louis bit at the nail between his teeth, trying his best to keep any sounds from passing his small lips. He had been waiting under his blue and green dinosaur comforter for what felt like hours as his father broke random bottles of glass between shouts and curses. It hadn’t been new to him, hearing the man he called Dad stomp up the stairs and pound on his door. Even at that tender age of eight he knew that the pounding was more than the announcement of his presence, it was a warning, to get the tears sure to be running down his face, dry. Dad had never liked seeing Louis cry, or to be more accurate, he was never a fan of hearing it.

He could hear his father breathing heavy just above him, “Louis, get up” it wasn’t a request, didn’t even sound vaguely like one with his gruff voice hitting his ears like a hammer striking glass, the brashness of it shattering his little ear drums. Louis did as he was told, always did, getting out of his warm little haven, his small sock clad feet hitting to hardwood of the floor nearly as fast as his fathers hand hitting his youthful pink cheek. The sting was enough to prompt him to move faster, his young plump cheek beginning to swell nearly as fast as it had been struck.

“I’m sorry Daddy,” he pleaded his young mind forgetting itself for a moment before being returned to reality by his fathers brutality. Another slap, this one with the force to bring the boy to his still growing knees, leaving bruises on the small caps and a cut under his innocently blue left eye. 

“I don’t want to hear it,” he spat lowering his body closer to the little boy on the floor. “I know you’re sorry, so was your mother when she left.” He claimed in anger as he gripped the chestnut hair on the boys head, “You know what Louis? I’m sorry too, sorry I let you tear apart my marriage, sorry that your mother didn’t even love you enough to stay,” the words were sharp as they cut into louis’s skin leaving gaping wounds where he wished his mothers kisses would have been. But it didn’t matter she didn’t love him enough to stay, no one ever would, dad had taught him that. 

“Harry don’t be like that,” Uncle Tony said propping himself onto his elbows over the little boy with a head full of curls. They were on their weekly camping trip, that Uncle Tony had been taking Harry on since he had turned five and fell in love with trees and flowing rivers. Harry was curled in on himself in his sleeping bag, hoping that just this once that his uncle would let him sleep. Luck had never been in his favor as it would seem because uncle Tony never did leave him be, not once was he left to sleep when in those ever green forest. 

Harry shivered as air entered his sleeping bag along with the hand of his uncle, he did not however feel the air on his willy where uncle Tony’s hand often found itself. Cool finger tips pulled at his young body as his uncles lips found his in a vice like lock with twist of the older mans tongue between the young boys lips. There were tears rolling down his cheeks, always were when his uncle was around. Harrys tongue was still and heavy in his mouth, as panicked as the little boy himself. 

“Please,” he managed when his lips where free, the fear within him only seemed to thicken as the night passed on. He remembered when he use to look forward to these outings, but back then his uncle’s kisses didn’t involve as much tongue and painful touches. Harry had whimpered so many times over that night along with many others that he barely even noticed anymore, sometimes finding himself wondering if that’s what happened to his uncle, if he had become so use to the young boy begging, to simply sleep or pleading for Tony’s fingers to not be so rough while they pull and push at the boys still young body, that he no longer was able to understand the pleas or even hear them. 

“You’re always such a good boy for me, Harry,” Tony praised when pulling the boys now sticky hand from his pants with a satisfied shutter. Harry wished he could clean the tears from his face but his hands weren’t clean and the last time his uncle shot the sticky stuff on his face he nearly got sick on the floor of the tent. “I love you Harry, you will always be here to take care of me, right?” He asked the still teary eyed boy with a long kiss dampened with the painful movements of Tony’s tongue. Harry didn’t want to always take care of his uncle, he didn’t want to be touched by his uncle, and he didn’t want to be loved, love hurts, Tony had taught him that.


End file.
